


places like this

by santanico



Category: Coolgames Inc (Podcast) RPF, McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF, Polygon (YouTube) RPF
Genre: Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: “It’s too fucking hot for you being such a brat,” Griffin says, and Nick laughs but it’s the type of laugh that’s a little broken. “What? Something else to say?”





	places like this

**Author's Note:**

> me: *goes to school 4 years 2 study english and creative writing*  
> me: *writes this fucking bullshit*

“It’s too fucking hot, Nick,” Griffin says, stretching out on Nick’s couch. Nick kicks him with his bare foot.

“You live in Texas, you motherfucker. Shouldn’t you be used to it?” As he says it, he wipes the sweat away from his forehead.

“Yeah, but I have working air conditioning.”

Nick snorts. “Yeah, well, I’m not a king of podcasting so I don’t have the spare cash to be constantly upkeeping my A/C in fuckin’...San Francisco.”

“I can’t believe this is our one weekend together in six weeks and this is what we get.”

Nick shrugs. “Go home,” he says, and Griffin laughs. Nick stands up and walks to the kitchen - at least, Griffin assumes that’s what he does. The thought of craning his neck to watch is impossible to comprehend right then.

The refrigerator opens and Griffin closes his eyes. Nick rummages through his fridge and shuts it, seems to hesitate in the kitchen for a moment before Griffin hears his footsteps again. Griffin’s thinking of something to say - a joke about heatstroke, or dying, or something equally morbid - and Nick presses cold metal to his forehead.

Griffin yelps and scrambles up, smacking his head into the can.

Nick’s giggling. “Chill out, dude.” Then he looks at his beer and cracks it open, laughs as Griffin stares at him. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Griffin throws up a middle finger and swings off the couch, making his way to the kitchen himself. Nick’s slurping on the beer now, being obnoxious about it. Griffin presses the button in the refrigerator door, unhinging a few ice cubes, and pops one in his mouth, sucking on it before he crunches down. It’s a confusing relief, numbing one side of his mouth and broken pieces melting on his tongue.

As Griffin sits back down, Nick looks at him.

“That’s bad as shit for your teeth, dude,” he says, slugging the beer.

Griffin shrugs and chews on the second ice cube. The third one is melting in his palm so he scoots close to Nick and presses it hard against the back of Nick’s neck. Nick yelps and jumps, and then laughs and puts down his beer to grab Griffin’s collar.

They kiss and Griffin shoves his tongue into Nick’s mouth, trading off the remaining cold saliva from the ice. Nick laughs again and bites down hard on Griffin’s lip. Griffin pulls back first, raising an eyebrow.

“You said to find something to do,” Nick says.

“I did not say that,” Griffin says, scowling even as he wants to laugh.

“Shit,” Nick says. “It’s too hot to argue.”

“It’s too hot to do anything. How the fuck are we supposed to record anything?”

Nick takes off his shorts. He looks stupid, actually, splayed out on the other half of the couch in his boxers and no socks, t-shirt still on and clinging to his chest with patches of sweat.

“Do you wanna take a shower?” Nick says after a minute. “Like. A cold shower?”

“Shit, man. Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

-

They end up staying in bed with the blinds closed and the ceiling fan whirling. Nick’s hair drips onto his shoulders and onto the pillow, leaving a wet imprint on the fabric, and Griffin, with a sigh, gets up and hands Nick a towel.

Nick sighs. “You’re so weird,” he says.

“Sorry that I wash my sheets more than once a year.”

Nick shrugs. “I have perfect skin.”

“What does…?”

“I mean, bacteria on your pillows and shit. People are like, _wash your pillowcases and sheets every week to end acne!_ and like fuck you, I’m great.”

“Mhm,” Griffin says. “Must be nice.”

“You love it,” Nick says. He’s scrolling through his phone, has been pitching ideas for videos and reading the reddit thread for CGI for about twenty minutes. Griffin is still thinking about how cold the shower was and how fucking hot it is now, but as the sun has set, there’s a relatively pleasant breeze coming through Nick’s window and Griffin’s beginning to relax.

“Neopets had some great games,” Nick says. “I mean, nothing that hadn’t been done before, but they really - they really nailed those concepts.”

“Sure,” Griffin agrees. “Sorry. I’m like, just a tad too old for Neopets,” he says. Nick rolls onto his stomach and props himself up on his elbows. Griffin has a brief thread of a thought about Nick being cute. Nothing else. Just cute. He’s gnawing on the tip of his thumb, brows furrowed in what must be a very complicated thought, and sweat is already beading at Griffin’s forehead. 

“Just a _tad_ ,” Nick says, and grins when Griffin glares at him. “Man, I love that about us.”

“Do you?” Griffin says, folding his hands over his stomach. He’s regretting putting on the t-shirt but it’d be too obvious to take it off now. A siren blares outside on Nick’s street.

“Yeah, you the old man with no concept of what’s cool or how to dress, and me…” He trails off, tilts his head, grins again showing his teeth. Griffin frowns.

“And you?” Griffin echoes, shifting to look at Nick more head-on.

“Your hot, younger - I mean, I’m trying to be gentle here, Griff.”

“Sure, sure you are,” Griffin says, and he starts carding his fingers through Nick’s still damp hair. “You’re not entirely wrong, I guess.” Nick hums and leans into Griffin’s touch. Griffin scratches the side of Nick’s head and then gives his hair a sharp tug.

Nick gasps and sits up a little, trying to follow Griffin’s hand.

“You don’t like that?” Nick says, his voice only just starting to waver. He opens his eyes and smiles at Griffin again, tilting his chin up. “Ha. I didn’t realize you were so self-conscious about it. You’re such an easy target.”

Griffin tightens his grip again but doesn’t tug. Nick’s voice falters and he shuts his eyes again, but he’s still smiling, maintaining himself. Griffin’s dick is twitching and if Nick looked he’d know, but Nick’s distracted, thinking of something to say, undoubtedly.

“You know,” Nick says, and he’s managed to steady his voice. “It does kinda get me going too, does it do that for you? Or are you just...Ah, hey.” He’s biting hard on his lower lip now, leaning his head back, and he’s moved closer to Griffin, crawled closer so that Griffin has to bend his arm at the elbow to get a good grip.

“It’s too fucking hot for you being such a brat,” Griffin says, and Nick laughs but it’s the type of laugh that’s a little broken. “What? Something else to say?”

Nick looks at Griffin again as Griffin clenches and unclenches his fist. As soon as Griffin lets go enough to give Nick movement, Nick scrambles forward, clutching at Griffin’s shoulders and getting almost close enough to kiss him. Griffin’s faster, threading his fingers back through Nick’s hair and pulling harder than he has that night. Nick gasps and leans back, coming up on his knees.

Griffin watches Nick, keeping his mouth a straight line, as he guides Nick’s head back further.

“Griffin,” Nick says, his voice strained as his throat stretches, Griffin tilting his head further back. Nick whines and the sound of it quivers in his throat, low and raspy. Griffin relaxes his grip but keeps his hand firm on Nick’s head as Nick drops to look him in the eye.

Griffin pushes himself up against the headboard a little more and lifts his other hand to touch his thumb to Nick’s mouth. Nick’s lips part with impressive immediacy, but Griffin just traces the pad of his thumb across the thin, reddened skin of Nick’s lips. Nick’s mostly quiet now, his breathing a little heavier, and after a few seconds he peaks his tongue out, touching it to the tip of Griffin’s thumb.

“Yeah?” Griffin says. He can’t help that his voice hits that lower octave, but Nick is the one quivering all over, barely staying up with the help of Griffin holding onto his hair. “Any other hilarious commentary on your mind?”

Nick opens his mouth a little wider and Griffin slides his thumb inside. Nick closes his lips and sucks for a second, laves his tongue against Griffin’s sensitive skin, looks up at Griffin and then smiles.

“Oh, you mother - ”

Griffin pulls his thumb from Nick’s mouth almost as soon as Nick bites down on the joint. He does it hard enough to make Griffin flinch, but not hard enough to mean anything, and a thousand different thoughts race through Griffin’s mind. It only takes him a few seconds to parse through the memories - Nick jacking off on the phone, his voice a wreck, “I hope you’ll hit me one day, I love when you get handsy and I want you to slap me more than anything, I mean it,” and they’d talked about it, more seriously, a few days later but it hadn’t come up again, and Griffin’s heartbeat rackets into high speed.

He slaps Nick firm, but not hard by any real measure. Nick still reels a little, his face turned from Griffin, his eyes shut, his mouth open. Griffin has a hand in his hair, keeping Nick afloat.

“How’s that?” Griffin says, not expecting an answer.

After another handful of seconds, Nick turns and looks at him, his breathing uneven. “I mean, it’s not bad, coming from…” He pauses, maybe weighing his options. “Coming from the guy who dresses like a middle school math teacher.”

Griffin slaps Nick with more confidence this time, still not hard enough to leave a mark but the sound of his palm against Nick’s cheek is sharp and satisfying.

“How long can you keep that up?” Griffin says, fighting the wavering in his voice. His dick is definitely hard now, aching in his underwear, but it’s too early to give up on this.

“Am I being too mean?” Nick says. He’s smiling, even with his eyes closed and the right side of his face blooming red. “I didn’t know you were so fucking _sensitive_ , Griffin.”

The third slap is the hardest, and Nick chokes, tries to drop his head but Griffin’s still holding his hair, keeping him upright.

“Jesus,” Griffin says. Nick shuffles just a little closer but doesn’t make any movements. “Are you _done_?”

Nick’s breathing hard through his nose. “Griffin,” he says, without looking at him. “Let me touch you.”

Griffin half-laughs. “That seems stupid. Clearly, I can’t trust your mouth.”

Nick makes another noise, most akin to a whine. “I’m sorry,” he says, just loud enough for Griffin to hear him.

“Oh, say that again? I didn’t quite catch that.” The adrenaline surging through Griffin is enough to keep him going, but he’s also terrified he’ll misstep and send things out of order. Nick hums.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, more clearly. “For biting you. For being - being a brat. _Please_ let me suck you off.”

Griffin thinks for a second and then lets go of Nick’s hair. Nick almost collapses but pulls himself up, looking at Griffin with watery eyes and his mouth parted.

“Get on the floor,” Griffin says. He doesn’t give himself time to think about anything coming out of his mouth. “Kneel on the floor, next to the bed.”

Nick scrambles off the bed, does as he’s told. Griffin scoots over to the side and Nick reaches for his underwear.

“No touching,” Griffin says, yanking Nick’s hair. Nick sighs and tilts his head back. “You got it?”

“No touching,” Nick repeats, his voice distant but clear.

“Thank you,” Griffin says. He pulls off his underwear, tossing them to the end of the bed. He wraps his fingers around his dick and looks at Nick, who blinks hard and stares at the cock in front of his face. “Open your mouth.”

Nick shivers and does as he’s told again.

“Stick out your tongue.”

“Griffin, God,” Nick says, but he doesn’t hesitate besides that, laying his tongue out flat.

Griffin rests the head of his cock against the surface of Nick’s tongue. Nick stays almost perfectly still and Griffin rubs his cock along the surface. The amount of control is better than anything Griffin ever could have imagined - Nick’s mouth is warm and pliant under Griffin’s movements. Griffin shifts a little closer and presses his cock deeper, towards the back of Nick’s throat. Nick closes his lips and Griffin grabs his hair again, pulling him off.

“Do what I said,” Griffin says, and Nick closes his eyes again and nods. He opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue, and waits.

Griffin starts again, slowly reaching deeper into Nick’s throat until the head hits the back and Nick’s body seizes just a little.

“Just a little more,” Griffin says, stroking Nick’s hair. “You’re doing great.”

Griffin _is_ impressed by Nick’s rigid posture. He’s not drooling yet, although Griffin wouldn’t be surprised if he started soon. With careful thrusts, Griffin buries his cock inside Nick’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat with each sharp buck of his hips. Nick’s tearing up more seriously now, a few drops rolling down his cheeks. Griffin’s gut clenches and he fucks Nick’s throat a little harder, a little faster, keeping Nick steady with the grip on his hair.

“Shit, Nick, _Nick_ ,” Griffin gasps as his orgasm starts to roll towards him. He holds Nick still with one hand and jacks his cock - then he’s coming on Nick’s tongue, spilling into his mouth and across his jaw. Nick’s eyelids flutter and he closes his mouth and swallows as Griffin lets him go and falls back against the bed, his arms and legs shaking.

Nick crawls next to Griffin and tucks into his side, running his fingertips along Griffin’s chest.

“Griff,” Nick mutters, and Griffin sighs, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Nick starts to kiss Griffin’s throat and shifts closer, pressing his groin against Griffin’s thigh. Nick’s hard-on is thick on Griffin’s bare leg and Nick ruts a bit until Griffin glances at him. Nick drops his gaze and stills.

“What d’you need,” Griffin says, carding his fingers through Nick’s hair. Nick presses his nose to Griffin’s jaw and starts kissing again, pressing his cock firmly against Griffin’s body.“That all? Think you can get off just grinding on me?”

Nick makes a tiny noise and shakes his head, bumping Griffin’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Griffin says. Nick still has dry come on his chin but he seems unbothered, preoccupied by his own movements. “Use your words, Nick.”

“Okay,” Nick whispers, “please. Touch me, just your hand, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” Griffin says, shifting to roll onto his side. “Turn around.”

Nick hesitates but listens. He’s not willing to risk whatever Griffin is considering giving him over asking. Griffin smiles as he slots them together, his chest against Nick’s back, chin at Nick’s shoulder. Griffin presses his palm through Nick’s boxers, rubs him through the fabric. There are plenty of things he loves about Nick - innocent things like the way he’s so easily reduced to giggles, how he can be taken off-guard by the strangest things, his well of knowledge of anime, his teenage interest in ebay collectibles and E3 t-shirts. Less innocent things, like the weight of his cock and the curve of it, the way Nick turns to little bubbles, ready to burst, when Griffin touches him.

Nick whines again, grinds his hips into Griffin’s hand. Griffin squeezes Nick’s cock through his underwear and Nick chokes, turning his face to bury it into the pillow. 

“Hey, hey, stay focused,” Griffin says, wrapping his other arm under Nick and around his shoulders. Nick’s still trying to move, seeking out additional friction, but as Griffin’s grip on him tightens, he relaxes again. “You want me to jerk you off?”

Nick makes a sharp, small sound and half-bucks in Griffin’s hold.

“Nick, stay still. If you don’t stay still…” Griffin trails off. It’s still hot as shit. Nick’s back is sweaty against his chest and his underwear are damp - likely a combination of sweat and leaking. Griffin slips his hand under the waistband and curves his fingers around Nick’s cock, giving it a slow stroke.

Nick’s silent now, his breathing barely audible even as Griffin holds his own. Griffin shifts a bit and starts jacking Nick with more consistency. He can sense Nick tensing with every upward movement and twist of his wrist, and within moments Nick is bowing his head and pressing his teeth into Griffin’s wrist as his body convulses, shooting come onto Griffin’s palm and the sheets beneath them.

They lie together, still and quiet, Nick’s mouth pressed gently to Griffin’s wrist.

“You good?” Griffin says after a moment. His voice is dry and cracked, and he clears his throat, starting to unstick himself from Nick’s skin.

They both roll onto their backs, gazing at the ceiling.

“I don’t have clean sheets,” Nick admits.

“Then get a towel,” Griffin says.

Nick looks at him and smiles in the dark. “You don’t always get like that.”

Griffin shrugs. “You don’t always give me reason to.”

Nick giggles. “That’s bullshit. I love it, though. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well.” Griffin pauses.

“I gotta wash my face.”

Griffin snorts. “Bring me a washcloth.”

Nick rolls out of bed and comes back a minute later, handing Griffin the damp cloth. Griffin wipes off his hands and sits up, looking at Nick’s flushed face. He folds the washcloth in hand and holds it out to Nick.

“Ew, I don’t want that.”

Griffin guffaws. “It’s your fucking come,” he says, then shrugs and presses the cloth to the back of his own neck. It’s still cool enough to provide some relief. “More for me.”

Nick staring at him, wide-eyed and intent all of the sudden.

“Promise you’ll do that again?”

“Sorry?” Griffin says, moving the towel from his neck and pressing it against his shoulders.

“That you’ll hit me.” Nick’s voice is all quiet again, and then he kisses Griffin hard on the mouth, just once, and pulls away. “Please,” he says.

“Yeah, I - I mean.” Griffin’s freezing, the pressure mounting. Nick’s face falls but then he straightens out.

“I mean, only if you liked doing it,” Nick says. He’s tracing a finger along Griffin’s wrist, the place where he’d bitten him. There’s tiny little marks that might bruise - Griffin can’t be sure - and Nick’s touching them with the barest tips of his nails.

“I like it. I like it...a lot. I thought that was pretty clear.”

Nick’s breath hitches and he nods.

“Fuck, man, it’s hot.”

Nick laughs. “I know,” he says, and gets up again. He comes back with a towel, which he throws over the comestain on his bed. “Temporary fix. I’ll wash it. I promise.”

“Look, it’s not my problem after this weekend,” Griffin says, leaning back into his pillow. Nick lies down flat, splays his fingers over Griffin’s belly and hums.

“Let me be your problem this weekend,” Nick says, and he’s grinning when Griffin looks down at him, eyebrow raised.

“That’s the worst pick-up line you’ve ever used,” Griffin says.

“Try me,” Nick laughs.


End file.
